A ride in Morgan’s Ford

 A ride in Morgan’s Ford

Warner sent me to Ross Hardware once

In the rear there was plenty parking

Down Noble Avenue from the Memorial Hospital 

Waved to Allen Powell at the Motel pool skimming 

High School tardy bell loudly ringing

That pretty blond lady at the crossing stopping me

Past Travis' Standard busily the oil checking

Luther with Goliath at the white parsonage gardening

Near time for a french fried and mayonnaise 

sandwich from Nettie at the Chick Inn

There's Jack Bowman, wonder where he's going?

Carse Oil at forty-six a gallon and rising!

The ole Seaboard Coastline blocks my crossing

Down to two box cars no problem waiting

Time for some stiff dungarees from Lewis' I'm thinking

Those pretty daughters I hope on me waiting

Dread the haircut, hope Mr Bill Griffis

dad's chair is occupied

Oh good! the Night of the Living Dead is showing

Guess Alice I'll hope to be closely holding 

Scary movies at the Arcade are great

Then out to ghost light... what was it I came down Noble for?

Have I attained?

 And have I attained?

Went to an ALF a few years back. I was commenting on a painting on the ladies wall. She asked if I paint? I said I do. And over her bed was a large John Moran framed photograph of fireflies on the Itchetucknee. I said I aspire to him. She said, have you seen John Stokes work?

At first I thought she meant Moran. It made my day to say, I am he. 

I trust it made hers.

First cast

Watertown

Dead Heads

 Dead Heads

By john clare stokes

The boy loved boogers

He couldn't help himself

In the pew, at school

He picked

Like the dog eating grass

It met some nutritional deficiency

In February of '58 his mother

Took him to Dr Head in Crawfordville 

Only Doc in Wakulla County

In a grave manner

The doctor with head mirror

Peered long into his nose

Paused with a sigh

And gave the prognosis;

"You will die if you don't stop picking your nose."

In March of '64 William Duncan Head died.

He was three. Son of Thomas and Flo.

In June of '64 Dr Thomas Duncan Head was found by

His wife Flo

Drowned from an apparent Lake Ellen fishing accident

The overturned inner tube raft the evidence. 

No autopsy was ordered.

He was 43.

The boy lived yet often wondered through the years,

Did they too pick their noses? 

West towers

 West Towers

johnClare Stokes

Earth day found us tracing a trail

far off the path in the Osceola

below in a pine forest in the shadow

of the West Tower like a large

sundial telling us now was the

only time we would ever have

alone as two hands almost met

but moved away, far away to

other loves, other forests,

other towers watching for

the spark of flame that never

came to fire.

Where are you

 Did you know that epic scenes

 were

unfolding all about

your place yesterday?

We knocked and

knocked for you

to come see

You never came

I think you were 

too immersed In

scrolling for

Epic scenes

Admiral pad

 Admiral pad

Johnclarestokes 

Quickly as one could

before the lens could 

compose, the Admiral

lifted beyond the frame

to never be seen again

Toad flax

 The toad flax rolled out a purple carpet 

 The heavens a throne of gold 

 In the midst of royalty I did sit  

As eternal  stories began to unfold

Welcome lily

 Daily I awake to find

 a new lily has arrived.

With every dawning

an old friend has

returned to visit me;

Savor the season of the lily,

the memory it brings

each morning.

Richard Orander

 Crumpler Mountain Memory

My grandfather Richard Orander when he was injured in a coal mining accident in Crumpler, West Virginia, started a bus line from Crumpler to Northfork. This bus from a lot in Gainesville was like the one he had. I superimposed it on top of Crumpler Mountain along with him in the drivers window.

It’s a fast reel

 It’s a fast reel

Yesterday toward later afternoon the house was quiet and the memories were loud. We took our folding chairs and went down to Watertown Lake dock and sat there with them awhile until they subsided a might.

Black or white

 "Shades Of Gray"

When the world and I were young

Just yesterday

Life was such a simple game

A child could play

It was easy then to tell right from wrong

Easy then to tell weak from strong

When a man should stand and fight

Or just go along

But today there is no day or night

Today there is no dark or light

Today there is no black or white

Only shades of gray

I remember when the answers seemed so clear

We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear

It was easy then to tell truth from lies

Selling out from compromise

Who to love and who to hate

The foolish from the wise

But today there is no day or night

Today there is no dark or light

Today there is no black or white

Only shades of gray

[Instrumental interlude]

It was easy then to know what was fair

When to keep and when to share

How much to protect your heart

And how much to care

But today there is no day or night

Today there is no dark or light

Today there is no black or white

Only shades of gray

Only shades of gray

The Monkees. One of my favorite songs from them. 

Uh huh

 Old men shall dream dreams

I used to ride up and down US90 all day shuttling vehicles. One of my young co- workers is forever going on about cars, especially Challengers with scat packs, whatever that is. I just give a nice uh huh.

Today was payback. We followed closely the vehicle with the Specialized and Pinarello Prince bicycles. This time it gave me great pleasure telling him of how grand the Prince is with the carbon fiber and Shimano gears. He didn’t have a clue for once. He gave me a nice uh huh.